


Angry Skies

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deputy Donna Hanscum, Deputy Sam Winchester, EMT Castiel, F/M, Firefighter Benny, Firefighter Dean, Gen, Kansas, M/M, Sheriff Jody Mills - Freeform, Storm Chaser Garth, Tornado
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: It’s tornado season in central Kansas, where Sheriff Mills, and her Deputies Winchester and Hanscum, keep the peace. Eccentric Storm Chaser Garth, EMT Castiel and the firefighting team of Winchester and Lafitte are there to help, when the skies get angry.





	1. We’re Still in Kansas, Dorothy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Nonny Mouse

Jody was smirking at him. 

Sam rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. “What?” he demanded. 

His boss shook her head, but winked at Deputy Hanscum, who snorted a giggle. 

It was hard to glare at them when he knew his face was splotching red. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care what you’re grinning about. Someone around here has to get some work done. I guess it’ll have to be me.”

“Think Cas Hart would know how to complete those forms himself by now. Wouldn’t you?”

“Darn tooting. That boy’s been on the scene for two years or more now, isn’t that right, Jodes? Long as I been here, you think?”

“Gotta be at least that long,” the sheriff confirmed. 

Sam spoke through his teeth as he busied his hands filing the paperwork. “He’s thorough,” he growled. “He likes to have one of us check things over.”

“Never asked me to check anything for him. He ever ask you, Donna?”

“Sure hasn’t, Sheriff. Always seems real confident when I’m the one taking his forms.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“Oh, you betcha. Real confident.”

Sam’s face was burning. “Maybe he just knows I won’t give him a hard time about coming in to ask questions like some might.”

Jody shrugged. “Maybe. You’ve always been real good with the public, Sam. Especially with the paramedics.”

Donna snorted again. 

“I have-“ Sam stopped abruptly before walking into the filing cabinet he had forgotten to close. He tried to ignore the laughter, but it wasn’t helping him save his dignity when he got so flustered that he started slamming into office furniture. “I have work to do,” he muttered sulkily, and he stumbled to the small office behind the front desk.

Castiel Hart was a gorgeous man with a crooked smile that made Sam’s tongue and brain go numb whenever he spoke in that beautiful, deep baritone. He hoped it wasn’t nearly as obvious to the man himself as it clearly was to his co-workers, that Sam suffered the most embarrassing crush of all time on a guy he barely knew and couldn’t speak to. 

Jody and Donna putting ideas into his head about Castiel stopping by to talk to him in particular wasn’t helping at all. 

He was sighing into his cold coffee when his radio crackled. “All units clear the channel for incoming advisory.”

Sam turned up the volume. It was the channel used for first responders all over the region, so it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming. He pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there was a text from their friendly neighborhood storm chaser, Garth, alerting him to the oncoming storm. 

Jody cursed from her office. “I just wanted one day when shit didn’t blow up. Was that too much to ask?”

“Apparently,” Sam murmured to himself. 

“Shoulda known, Jodes. Day was too quiet. I tell ya, you Kansans know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Welcome to your third tornado season, Donna. You’re practically a veteran,” Jody grumbled from down the hall. 

“I mean, we get some wild weather back home. Oh, you betcha. Forty-eight tornadoes in one day once in 2010. Never forget that. And snow, yeah? But you guys with your sirens going off every five minutes! It’s a wonder Dorothy even wanted to come home!”

“You chose to live here, Donna,” Sam called. The alert was coming in on his network as well, and he scanned it while he waited. 

“Oh, sure, because the job, and glad of it, but you know. If I went to Oz and heard they didn’t have tornadoes, I mighta stayed there, ya know? I bet the little Munchkin people coulda used a good Deputy Sheriff.”

“Well, until you find the key that unlocks the door to Oz, you better come with me to-“ Jody stopped abruptly as the radio interrupted again. 

“The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for much of the state, including Barton County and the city of Hoisington, Ellis, Russell, Stafford and nearby counties until 11pm. According to the weather service, at 5:59 p.m., a severe thunderstorm capable of producing a tornado was located near the listening area, moving northeast at 45 mph. Possible hazards include tornadoes and golfball-size hail. Radar indicated rotation. Flying debris can be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes can be damaged or destroyed, and damage to roofs, windows and vehicles can occur. Flooding and tree…”

The sirens drowned out the rest, but they all knew it by heart. 

Sam strapped his sidearm into his holster, and took hold of his radio. “Just another day at the office,” he sighed. “I should have been a lawyer in California.”


	2. Oh Brother Why Art Thou

Dean stared into his buddy’s sad eyes, and sighed. He hated to do it. Benny was the best friend he had ever had. But his brother needed him, and that meant everything. He took a deep breath and watched Benny nod. He nearly backed down when the old bear teased gently about his hesitation. He gave one last soft smile, then straightened, hardened his heart, and ended it all.

There was silence as Dean’s hand dropped his weapon.

In a breath, the entire department erupted into a collective cheer. Laughter filled the room, and their friends pounded each of them on the backs roughly.

Benny shook his head and gathered up the cards while Dean smirked and collected Benny’s chips. “Somebody tell the chief I’m gonna need some overtime!” Benny called.

Jo was cackling from beside him. “Damn! You two can sure turn a friendly game into a battle!”

“I did not think you had it, Winchester!”

Dean let an eyebrow lift with quiet conceit. “I don’t bluff, Trenton. I’m just a very lucky man.”

Cole snorted at him. “Luck, my ass. You wiped us all out, and it ain’t even six o’clock yet! What are we supposed to do for the rest of the night?”

The reigning poker champion just smiled. “I don’t know about the rest of you. But I’m taking all your money to go buy my kid brother the tickets to that concert in Wichita for his birthday. I appreciate ya’ll contributing to the cause.”

“I’ll earn it back in the game next week.”

He grinned at Benny. “That’s why I gotta go spend it now. I’ll have my paycheck to lose next week. But if I’m getting those tickets before they sell out, then I had to resort to using your money this week. Thanks for the interest-free cash advance, everyone!”

It was just good manners to count his winnings after leaving the break room, but Dean wasted no time once he hit the computer desk. He smiled to himself. Between what he had squirreled away and what he had earned tonight, he would be able to get those tickets for Sam. He had always wanted to do something big for his brother’s birthday. Every year, he swore to himself that he would do something more. Every year, something came up. His Baby needed a new part; he broke his arm one year. The second of May seemed to sneak up on him every time, and he wanted just once to be ready for it.

Sam turned twenty-five soon, and Dean was ready this time.

Maybe it was silly for a grown man to put so much thought into his kid brother’s birthday. But Sam had never asked for anything, not their whole lives, and Dean knew he wanted to see this band. It was the first album the guy had ever bought, and he had listened to it until Dean wanted to throttle the frontman. The closest they had come in the past was St. Louis, then Tucson in the other direction. When Dean had heard they would be in Wichita on the weekend of Sam’s birthday, he had promised himself he would pull off the best gift ever.

Dean didn’t really enjoy Croatoan. The group was weird. They had a few really good songs, but the rest was incoherent. Sam was the one who liked the angry crap. Of course, Sam still listened to Ladyheart; he was hardly the epitome of good taste. Vince Vincente was the devil as far as Dean could tell. He was everything that was wrong with butt rock. At least Croatoan had some personality, and actual talent. If he never heard Vinny belt out the stupid lyrics to Bloody Messiah again, he could die happy. Croatoan was punk metal, and Dean hated that slightly less. It wasn’t Zeppelin. But Sam liked it, and Dean could tolerate it. That was a win in his book.

The hotel room was booked. A nice place, not like the sketchy extended-stay places they used to sleep in as kids when their father had moved them all over. The tickets were purchased. It wasn’t exactly front row, but Dean was pleased.

He was just sitting back from the computer to grin to himself about what an amazing big brother he was, when the sirens filled the air around him.

Dean heaved a sigh. “And back in reality, this is still Kansas.”


	3. Angel, Who Art Not in Heaven

It was really no wonder that Castiel’s career was based in disasters. He was a disaster himself. 

“You’re a hot mess,” Meg laughed. Meg was always laughing at him. “How is it possible that I’m the only one who can see what a complete mess you are?”

Castiel stared down at his destroyed uniform in weary defeat. “Thank you for noticing,” he muttered dryly. 

“Cas has his act together! Cas is always so cool and calm. Cas is a freaking inspiration. No, Cas is a hot mess. I’m getting that made onto a towel; you can use it in your daily struggles.”

The rag she tossed at him hit him square in the face. He sighed and mopped uselessly at his shirt. “Why do I even get ketchup with my burger?”

“Why do you even get ketchup?” Meg was asking at the same moment. “I’ve been riding with you for like three years or something, and I’ve never seen you successfully finish a meal without wearing it.”

“It’s your driving,” he complained. 

“Uh huh. And what accounts for the way you can’t complete sentences when we run into that one deputy, Señor Suave?”

Castiel growled audibly. “And here we are again with the deputy.”

“I don’t get what the big to do is, Clarence! Just go talk to him!”

“I speak with Deputy Winchester all the time. It’s part of our job.”

Meg gave him a snort, then spoke again through her own sandwich. “Yeah. Real businesslike, Clarence.”

Whenever Meg called him Clarence, it was an accusation that he was pretending to be an angel. She used it often when the deputy came up in conversation. “Look. I’ve dated several men while being crushed by Sam Winchester.”

This produced a giggle that sounded somewhat wicked coming from his partner. “Crushed,” She snickered. It was how she amused herself on long night shifts, by referring to the crush Castiel suffered as Castiel being crushed. That and telling him what a disaster he was. 

He continued, while peeling off his uniform jacket, which was beyond saving. “There was Kelvin.”

“Hot but too intense,” she remembered. 

“Balt.”

“Who wore more product and jewelry than I ever have.”

“Yuriel.”

“Who tried to stab you in the back with a literal fucking knife.”

“Gabe.”

Meg smiled at the road ahead. “I liked that one.”

Blue eyes rolled dramatically. “Yes. And I think we could all tell. I’m never dating a bisexual man again, not so long as I’m hanging out with you.”

His friend shrugged. “Don’t hate the player, angel.”

“Gabe is the entire reason we can’t hang out with the fire department,” Castiel scolded her. “Which is a shame, since we clearly both enjoy men in uniform.”

She continued to laugh. “Aw. Is it awkward seeing Gabe, and knowing we each got a little of his-“

“If you make one of his sausage jokes, I’m jumping out of this ambulance right now.”

They heard a crackle on the radio over Meg’s giggles. Each paused, waited, then continued in the silence. “What about that Benjamin guy? He was cute.”

“She.”

“Oh.”

“And she moved to Missouri anyway.”

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a time, then he felt her slug him in the arm. “Ouch! What?”

“The guy! The cherub man, with the cheeks!”

Castiel groaned. “Lou?”

“Yes! Lou! The cute little chubby thing! I could have eaten him up!”

“He hugged too much. I can’t deal with all the hugging. He hugged everyone. He even hugged you.”

Meg frowned then. “Oh. That’s right. I didn’t like that.”

“Nobody liked that,” Castiel sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned against the seat. “Face it, Meg. I’ve sampled all the choices in and around this tiny city. The only gay man in a thousand miles that I still want is…” He cringed. “Is all business,” he finished sadly. 

Whatever pearls of wisdom Meg intended to dig up were lost when the radio came to life to warn of an impending disaster. Meg listened, then took a long breath. “Well, probably don’t matter anyway. This might be the one that takes us off the map.”

“You say that every time.”

“You ever seen this hick town on any map?”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t…”

“Exactly. Come on. Somewhere around here is a worse disaster than you, and somebody is gonna be calling for us, Toto.” She cranked up her punk metal station just as Croatoan began playing Angry Skies, and sped up. 

The lyrics blared in his ears, and he found himself wondering if the station were playing this now out of some twisted dark humor. 

“See that the end is nigh   
The Devil will surely rise  
See yellow in your eyes  
Can’t hide your fear. 

No time to improvise  
Evil already in the skies  
Hail and wind, giddy cries  
Lucifer is near. 

Twisters cutting up a bloody path   
And all God can do is laugh  
Free will is a length of rope  
Time for every last one to choke. 

Twisting up the skies  
Every fucking vulture flies  
Horsemen terrorize   
All you hold dear. 

Angels smirk, cut their ties  
Just can’t sympathize   
With all your useless cries  
Choose not to hear. 

Twisters cutting up a bloody path   
And God can’t help but laugh  
Free will is a length of rope  
Time for every last one to choke. 

Beautiful death, hypnotize  
Admiring our own demise  
Chasing pride, sin and lies  
Every commandment clear. 

Damn the bitches you idolize   
All your moans and fucking sighs  
Forsake and fuck and felonize   
Call it ear for an ear!

It ain’t no surprise   
Staring up at the angry skies   
The end isn’t fucking nigh  
Lucifer is here. 

Twisters cutting up a bloody path   
Death will have the one last laugh  
Free will is a length of rope  
Time for every last one to choke.”

Castiel brooded in the passenger side as the sirens mixed with the grinding music. “No place like home,” he muttered.


	4. On My Way

There had been some truly terrible things that Sam had encountered on the job over the last three years, things he would never have imagined on his own, but now could see clearly in his nightmares.

And he had learned quickly that the most mundane calls could end up becoming adrenaline-inducing adventures. He had once responded to a noise complaint in the late afternoon, in a small neighborhood, only to find a woman trying to shoo an irritated bobcat out of her kitchen by banging on her pots threateningly, while perching precariously on her countertop. The bobcat had been less than impressed, and seemed prepared to wait out the tantrum. It turned out that there was a cub hiding in the pantry. Once Sam and animal control had very carefully reunited the two, the mother simply grabbed her wayward child by the scruff and disappeared into the night. Jody had commended him on everyone making it home safe, including the animals, which another officer might have simply shot. Sam had been prepared to do so in order to save the woman, but it wasn’t his first choice. Saving people didn’t always have to mean hunting things.

Sometimes, though, the call was clearly going to be heartbreaking.

This one sent a spike of ice straight into his chest. No matter how many things he saw in his job, there would always be something left to terrify him.

“All units, all available units, we have a touchdown in section four; repeat 10-511 on the earlier 10-107. Address to follow. All available units respond to a 511 at the following address…”

Charlie’s crisp voice held none of her usual humor, and dread filled Sam as he listened to her chant out the physical address of one of the last places on earth Sam would want a tornado to touch down.

“Oh my god,” he hissed, and he dove into the Jeep to tear across town, while Charlie warned of casualties and possible fatalities at the location.

His hand fumbled his personal phone as he drove. “Dean?” he cried in a deeper voice than he normally used.

The voice that answered was even huskier, and it came through clearly in spite of the sirens in the background. “On my way, Sammy.”

He hung up and tossed the phone to the side, then pressed harder on the gas. Dean was on his way. That was all he needed to know.

***

Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel Benny watching him, but he refused to meet his gaze. Dean had not waited for the order from Michael to move. He had shouted that he and Benny were taking the pickup, and would meet the crew there, and Michael would have to deal with that. Gabriel had nodded at him on his way out, and he knew the man would run interference for him if Michael had a problem. Everyone knew what was at that address, or rather who, and nothing was going to keep Dean from being there as fast as physically possible.

The storm was crashing around them, but Dean stared hard at the road ahead, and pushed the utilitarian pickup truck as hard as he dared. Most firefighters who were killed on duty died while getting to an emergency, and Dean knew that as well as anybody did. But the address was ringing in his ears, even though the radio had gone quiet. He had heard Sam respond, then Donna, on the police scanner, so when the phone rang, he gave Sam what he wanted, then hung up immediately.

He was on his way. That was all he could promise.

***

Rain cut at Castiel’s cheeks, and wind filled his ears so that nothing Meg was saying was getting through. He had seen devastation in his line of work, no doubt, from disasters large enough to engulf the town in grief, or intimate enough to destroy only a single vulnerable soul. But this was terrifying.

Meg was reporting their location and initial review of circumstances to the hospital, and Castiel couldn’t hear, but he knew she was advising them to gear up for a rush. The fire department was near, and one of their pickups was pulling in to assess and take charge, and Castiel had heard Deputy Winchester respond to the call for all available units, so clearly he would be there in moments.

Disaster was part of his job, whether on a large or small scale, and every single one was important to those involved. But one look at the face of the firefighter, who leapt from the driver’s side of the pickup, told Castiel this one was going to hit home for all of them.

It was a very small town, and nearly everyone had a loved one at Hunters Rest Assisted Living, which was presently collapsed into rubble and mud, and frenzied cries for help, drown out by the rain and wind and fear.


	5. Stupid Heroes

Benny Lafitte and Donna Hanscum were managing the perimeter and crowd control, and communicating with dispatch and coordinating triage for those who had pulled themselves and others out of the rubble.

Sam had seen Meg Masters checking eyes for signs of concussion, and barking orders among volunteer first responders who were beginning to trickle in. That was good. Meg was an intimidating bitch, but she was efficient, and she took charge well when necessary. And she certainly wasn’t afraid to get her own hands dirty. Sam had once seen her successfully remove a large shard of windshield glass from her own knee and continue treating a victim without so much as a glance at her own blood until it was all over. She was tough. Sam didn’t particularly like her, but he couldn’t help respecting her.

The fire department was hard at work, fighting against the wind and cutting rain, to remove debris from the entrances of the large facility. There was noise everywhere, shouting over the storm and crashing of stone and metal.

But he heard his name, because it was Dean calling him. The first voice he could remember ever hearing, and the only one he accepted “Sammy” from, was calling to him now. He found his brother in the chaos, and leapt to his side.

“Sammy! Here! We can get through here!”

Sam nodded frantically as he sought the passage into the crushed building’s guts. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

There came another voice behind them, and they both startled.

“We aren’t authorized by the fire department to attempt to enter.”

Sam swallowed. It was Castiel Hart, and his face was entirely gray. He didn’t think he had ever seen cool Castiel show fear before. It only added to Sam’s own terror.

“I am the fire department!” Dean growled dangerously.

A grim smile played at Castiel’s lips. “No. Michael Arch is the fire department. You’re just one of his front line fighters. He’s already come over the radio to make it clear that no one is to enter until he says it’s safe to attempt rescue. You don’t have the authority-“

Sam cleared his throat. “Hart, there are people trapped in there. We gotta get to them before-“

“Back off, buddy,” Dean was warning. “I’m not waiting for any damn approval. I got a damn job to do!”

Castiel nodded quickly. “And I’ve done my part in trying to prevent you from doing it. So the only other thing I can ethically do, if you’re determined to get yourselves killed by climbing into a structurally unsound building...is to come with you and watch over you.”

Sam’s face softened. “Dean, he’s got even less authority than we do. But he’s got somebody in there too.”

Blue eyes searched Sam for compassion, then turned to Dean.

Dean huffed. “Yeah. All right. Sounds ethical to me. Just don’t get in our way.”

The facility was three stories high and there was at least one floor underground. Every window was blown out. Massive support beams were bent or downed all together. The second floor had completely collapsed on the right side, and Sam could taste the grit in the air, carried by the relentless wind. Every breath brought the threat of destroyed insulation and other toxic building materials. Dean was tossing first aid masks at him and Castiel, and then used his gloved hands to tear through a small opening which would give them access to the first floor, assuming the structure didn’t give in entirely and kill them all. Castiel threw his significant strength into play, ignoring the immediate gashes appearing on his bare hands.

At last, they were able to create an opening large enough in the wreckage to squeeze a man through. Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Scissors.” Without another word, he lowered himself into the hole, groaning as he did so.

“Scissors?”

“He always throws scissors,” Sam muttered absently as he watched and waited.

Castiel cleared his throat again. “That seems...unsafe.”

Sam’s brain did not register this statement, however, and he listened instead for his brother’s voice.

“Sammy? It’s okay! There’s space once you get-ow! Son of a bitch! It’s fine, but you gotta duck. You’ll take your whole damn head off. Get down here, Sasquatch.”

He needed no more instruction. Sam shoved his large body through too small a space, and let himself fall until his feet slammed onto a floor. Then he ducked under a low beam to join Dean. A silent EMT slipped down beside him, with far less effort. Castiel rounded at his shoulders and bent his neck, but otherwise was able to walk through the destroyed corridor without trouble.

It was immediately too dark. Rain was rushing in around them, and moving through the crushed building was going to require a great amount of caution. But in seconds, they found their first victim, pinned mercilessly by an unhinged door against a wall.

“Dead,” Dean reported with a croak. “We’ll recover him later. Come on.”

Sam glanced at Castiel, who flinched, but did not seem to recognize the poor man. They hurried beyond, toward the sound of hoarse shouting, through precarious doorways.

Inside a destroyed room, a young man was desperately trying to lift a heavy desk off the legs of an older man. “Help me!” he was screaming. His hands were bleeding, like Castiel’s, and there was an enormous cut on his head, but he was focused on saving the old man, who seemed unable even to speak.

Dean and Castiel rushed forward to assist in heaving the desk, and Sam pulled the man out from underneath. “It’s okay. It’s all right, sir. We’re going to get you help, okay? Fire department is working their way in, and you’re going to be okay.”

The young man burst into tears. “Thank you!” he hissed. “I couldn’t-I tried, but he-“

Sam turned to him. “What’s your name?”

“Tran. I’m Kevin Tran. I’m in med school!”

“All right, Kevin Tran of med school,” Dean growled. “You stay with him till we can get you out safe. Okay? Can you do that?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m-That’s-I can do that.”

Castiel pulled a small kit from his bag, and handed it to Kevin. “Put this to use. You know how. Trust your training.”

Kevin nodded, and dried his tears on his sleeve. He gripped the first aid pouch tightly. “Thank you. We will be fine, won’t we, Mr. Chambers? Your daughter would kill you if you died, wouldn’t she?”

The old man attempted a smile, and then he nodded too. “Krissy,” he whispered.

They could hear the kid chattering about Krissy while ripping into packaging behind them. Sam remembered there was a young teacher at the local high school called Krissy Chambers-Braedan. Dean had dated her sister-in-law a while back. Small towns. Everyone was connected in small towns. Every lost person was a hole punched into the heart of a small town.

Dean stayed behind just long enough to give Kevin commands about how to best keep himself and Mr. Chambers safe in the failing building until the other rescuers could get to them. But he caught up with the others quickly. “Sammy,” he barked. “Five more minutes, that guy would’ve been dead. Still might, but now he’s got a chance. We gotta split up and get through to the most area we can. You get me, little brother?”

Sam took a breath through the mask, and nodded. He put his hand on Dean’s arm. “You find…”

“I’ll let you know. I promise. You too.” Then Dean looked at their silent companion. “You wanted to watch over someone? You watch over my brother, you hear me? Don’t let him do anything stupid or heroic.”

“I think it may be a little late for both,” Castiel pointed out dryly.

Dean snorted.

“Be careful, man. It’d be damn inconsiderate of you to die a week before my birthday.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

And with that, the brothers turned in opposite directions. As Sam forced his focus away from worry for his brother, he realized Castiel was suddenly pushing ahead, toward a weak voice behind a wall nearby. He swallowed hard, said a tiny prayer for the man who would always be the most important person in his world, and followed after the EMT who was determined to save every last human possible.


	6. Charles Clarence Cassie Castiel

Castiel was probably going to lose his job for this. He didn’t care. At least, he couldn’t care just then. And if he were hurt, or worse, that didn’t matter right then either, and it certainly wouldn’t matter after the fact. Castiel would live, or die, with whatever consequences he earned by entering the facility against orders of the fire department chief and the sheriff’s office. 

Somewhere in this wreckage, Mr. Jones might need him. That was all that mattered. 

He and Sam Winchester made a good team. If he made it through this without being crushed beneath the third floor, he suspected he would think about that in greater detail. For now, he was simply grateful to have a companion who was competent and strong. Together, they worked their way through room after room, responding to cries for help, cringing at those beyond saving. 

“If this place collapses, we’ve saved these folks for nothing,” Sam murmured under his breath. 

“It can’t be for nothing. The fire department will get them out. We’re going to give them their best chance until they can. Like your brother said.”

Sam nodded. “And it’s still the right thing to do. Even if they can’t get out yet, they can help themselves and one another now that they’re less trapped.”

Castiel smiled grimly. He had never thought of the term “trapped” as relative before now. “You know we can’t get out either. That hole we dropped through to get in here. There’s no way-“

“I know. We’ll find another way. Or they’ll get to us. We just gotta keep moving till then. Save as many as we can.”

They heaved a broken table out of their path, and Castiel felt the building shift dangerously beneath his feet. They locked eyes for an instant. But everything seemed to steady, and they continued on without mentioning the tiny quake between them. 

He gathered his courage to him, and began to murmur to himself. “You can leash the Reaper, but he’s gonna break free…”

Sam glanced at him in surprise. “He’s coming for you, but he’s frightened of me.”

Castiel gave a nervous laugh. “Croatoan fan?”

“Since album one.”

“My partner and I saw them in St. Louis once. They were amazing.”

“That the night Benny the Fang…”

“Rest of the crowd was so high, I think we were the only ones who noticed. Us and Soulless. I thought he was going to break the Fang right in front of everybody.”

“Soulless is intense.”

Castiel wanted to keep up the talk. It was helping his nerves. But just as he was trying to think of something else to say, Sam’s radio crackled, and he cringed. 

“Winchester, report in.”

Sam swallowed hard and responded vaguely with the address of the building. 

“Hanscum is there now. Says your vehicle is there but you’re not.”

He glanced at Castiel with worry written into hazel blue eyes. “Yes, Sheriff. That’s because I’m...Somebody had to…” He sighed. “I entered the building, Sheriff. There are folks trapped in here-“

Castiel had never heard anyone curse over the radio before. 

Sam flinched. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I had to.”

“Sam, that place is coming down! Are you hearing me? You are not authorized to get your ass killed!”

“I can’t not help, Sheriff!”

“Your job is to help from out here! You think Hanscum doesn’t have her paws full on the outside? When the fire department clears it for entry, we will do what we can, but-“

“It’s too late, Sheriff. I’m already doing what I can. People are dying in here.”

“Yeah, and the more two hundred pound deputies we got tromping around in there, the faster that’s going to happen! Sam, the place is coming down. Hanscum says the storm is going to bring the whole thing down. Clearly we don’t want even more people inside it when that happens! I’m on a call across town. Don’t you make me come drag your ass out of there, young man!”

Castiel smiled weakly. “Wish she could.”

His companion nodded. He looked miserable. “I’m sorry, Sheriff.”

There was a long pause, as they listened to the sounds of the rain pounding the floor above them, and the angry groaning of the floor on which they stood. Then the radio crackled again. “Winchester, where’s your brother?”

“Don’t know, Sheriff. But I know he’d be right here with me if he could be.”

This pause was even longer. Then: “You two better live long enough for me to kill you both.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Check in with Hanscum every five. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Winchesters!” she cried in exasperation, then the frequency went quiet again. 

There was silence between them. 

It lasted only a moment, before Castiel’s sharp ears picked up the weak voice through the wind and rain. He felt blood drain from his face. “Mr. Jones,” he breathed, and all thoughts of broken careers and broken buildings flew from his head. Before he knew it, he was tearing through a room which was a strange hybrid of second and third floor debris, clawing toward the sound. Sam was beside him, bracing precarious beams, lifting to let Castiel crawl through the wreckage. He realized very suddenly that they were both soaked through from the rain, as though the storm were worsening or their shelter was failing further, and unfortunately both were likely. It didn’t matter. 

Mr. Jones mattered. 

Mr. Jones, who had taken him in every time his father had cast him out. Mr. Jones, who had spent hours as quiet comfort to a troubled boy. Mr. Jones, who said one was never too old for cartoons, who taught him that there was nothing wrong with a punk metal kid who also loved Ave Maria and Rachmaninoff, or with a straight A kid who liked punk metal. Mr. Jones, who gave him his first beer before he was even double digits, and then taught him why moderation was sometimes a more difficult and important skill to learn than abstinence. Mr. Jones, who had been the only one at his high school graduation to see him walk, and who had made him thank every teacher, and who had nodded at him as though he were proud. Mr. Jones who had let him cry without reprimand. Mr. Jones, who hadn’t spoken in two years, but whose voice Castiel heard in his head every time he had a decision to make. 

Mr. Jones, the only family Castiel had ever really had. 

“Help me!” he cried to Sam, even though he knew the man was already doing everything he could. “It’s him. It sounds like-Mr. Jones? Fred, is that you? Can you hear me?”

The muffled voice hesitated, then called again. “Castiel? Get in here, boy. Mrs. Tate’s been hurt!”

Relief and fear swirled together to bring tears to his eyes. But he blinked past them and attacked the wreckage with all his strength. 

Mr. Jones was alive. He was alive. Of course he was. He was alive and alert and speaking, and…

At last, they gained access to the room, and they could see two seniors, covered in dust and shaking with cold, but both very much alive. Castiel’s breath burst from him before he realized he was even holding it. He dove for the two figures huddled together, and ripped his mask off to secure it on Fred Jones. Then he got to work checking on Mrs. Tate, who was bruised purple and bleeding from a gash on the back of her head. 

“Mrs. Tate! Sheila, can you hear me?”

She blinked and smiled at him. “Oh, Charles. You don’t have to yell. I hear just fine.”

Sam huffed a laugh of relief. “Sheila Tate, Dustin’s grandma. We’re going to help you, Mrs. Tate.”

Castiel did his work, moving with efficiency and skill, in spite of the conditions. He focused himself on Mrs. Tate, but held onto Fred’s voice like a lifeline. 

“Glad you could join us, boys,” the old man muttered dryly. “Cas, what is this? If I need it, she needs it worse.”

But he shook his head stubbornly, even though he did not face him. “It’s a mask, and you need it. You are the one with upper respiratory-“

“I’m really fine, Charles,” Mrs. Tate agreed. “Fred, let Charles do his job. You go right ahead. Fred isn’t going to bother you. Of course, there’s the cat. But he only bothers people he doesn’t like.”

“Fred?” Sam said quietly. “Did you move this?”

Castiel wanted to look, but he was busy bandaging Mrs. Tate with what few supplies he had remaining in his backpack. “What?”

“Did this fall on her?”

He glanced quickly. It was a wardrobe, lying on its side, with clothing and odds and ends strewn about. “He couldn’t have moved that,” he said quietly. 

“Oh, he did,” Mrs. Tate interrupted. “Mr. Jones has more strength than you think. It fell, and not on me, but I fell with it, and he got it off me, and that’s just the truth, Charles.”

This was obviously not what had occurred, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing did, except that Mr. Jones was going to be all right. And Mr. Jones would be all right, because Castiel was there now, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to him now. 

This was Castiel’s last thought before the falling beam struck him across the face, and he fell, unconscious, to the ground amidst screams from his patient, and those of the wind.


	7. Plan B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course, that ain’t exactly Plan A.” ~Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity

Room 354 was not sealed in until after Dean arrived. The ladies were huddled under a long desk, patiently awaiting rescue and planning their next move as that hope seemed less and less likely. One of them had been through a tornado disaster before as an infant, and had lost her mother and her hearing that day. The older of the two had been through one during her days as a performer. Neither scared easily, and nor did they panic. But their faces were grim and gray when Dean pushed his way in.

“Firefighters!” The older woman sighed in relief and gestured to the younger.

Dean shrugged a little. “Firefighter. Singular.”

There was a pause while that settled in, but the woman smiled anyway. “And you are a singular firefighter, aren’t you?”

The nurse looked at her charge with a smirk.

Dean blinked, then moved toward them. He had given his mask to a woman he had known from childhood, a perplexing and eccentric spitfire whose methods of bestowing affection were a strange combination of gentle and jarring, Missouri Moseley. Assuming the whole building didn’t come down, Missouri would be all right. Dean couldn’t imagine what sort of freak disaster would be necessary to take out Missouri. She was probably the entire reason the building was still there at all; she had probably smacked the tornado in the back of the head and told it to get its feet off the coffee table. The thought made Dean smile in spite of everything.

“I’m Mildred. This is Eileen. And you’re beautiful. If we’re all going to die, I’m glad to be with a sweet friend and a handsome face.”

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t often hurting for company when he wanted it, but it was rare that women his own age had this level of confidence. It tipped him off-balance a bit. He cleared his throat. “Pleasure to-to meet you both. Dying today isn’t Plan A.”

“I hope you have a better Plan B too,” the nurse said dryly, in a muffled voice.

Belatedly, Dean realized that the gestures between the ladies was sign language. He turned so that he was facing Eileen when he spoke. “The whole place is probably going to come down. I’m trying to get as many people to the safest possible position. We can’t get out yet. But near as I can tell, our best bet is to get to the center of the first floor or the furthest wall of the basement, if we can. Right here, we are going to end up on the second floor real quick. We gotta move before that happens. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take the stairs.”

Eileen watched his mouth, then nodded. She crawled out from the desk, and reached under to help Mildred. “The stairs may be safest anyway,” she told him.

“Usually are,” he agreed, “so long as they’re reinforced. Can you two get there?”

They nodded. Mildred smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her,” she teased Eileen, who rolled her eyes, and gestured again, eliciting a laugh from the older lady.

Dean smiled too, as he watched them ease out of the door, supporting one another. Every person had a different reaction to an emergency. He had seen some of the worst while on the job, panic, hysteria, rage, selfishness, shutting down. These two ladies, on the other hand, were the example of calm, intelligent reactions. They reasoned their way to their best position, kept their wits and their humor, helped one another, listened to the advice of an expert, and moved quickly to follow it. When this was all over, Dean suspected that not only would they be among the survivors, but he should offer to buy them each drinks to celebrate.

So when the crash of wood, metal, debris and rain came, as the third floor finally caved into the second completely, Eileen and Mildred were already safe in the stairwell. On the other hand, Dean was sealed into what a moment before was a room, alone, realizing that Plan A was probably not in the stars.


	8. Eye of the Beholder

A tornadic supercell was one of those storms that chasers lived for, but few ever got to experience. The majestic, breathtaking magnitude of such a thing isn’t something which could be comprehended without that direct experience. It is nature’s most destructive storm. 

Garth had seen a squall line once. It had been the most exhilarating day. But this…

“LP supercell, with at least fifteen tornadoes, and the rain driving down-“ Garth was shouting to his cousin over the phone. He had already given his official report and photography to the news station, but he had to call to vent some of his adrenaline. “No, dawg, it’s-No, worst is over. But look, I gotta go. I’m at one of the touchdown points, and it’s a complete disaster. I gotta go.”

He pushed his phone into his jacket pocket as he leapt from his truck. He grinned wildly at the two uniforms directing the scene. 

“Howdy, friends!” he cried cheerfully. “Incredible, right?”

Donna Hanscum looked a little gray. She turned to the firefighter. “You. I don’t have the strength to not strangle him today.” 

Benny Lafitte smiled weakly at Garth as Donna stomped away. “Hey, man. Look, I know this is your thing, but we’ve got four confirmed fatalities already, and…”

Garth swallowed. “Oh. I get it. Where’s-“

“Inside,” Benny said in a voice so hoarse that Garth was immediately sobered. “Both of them. Inside. We never cleared it, but-“

“But it’s the Winchesters, and they’re idjits. Think they’re exceptions to everything. Including dying.”

“Yeah. And just a minute ago, the third floor collapsed in on the second, and...and now Dean won’t come over the radio, and nobody can understand anything Sam’s trying to say, and...and I want to dive in after them, but Hanscum won’t let me out of her sight…”

“It’s Sam and Dean, man. They will be all right. Always are.”

Benny nodded. “Yeah? Then why can’t I get Dean to answer, and why’s it sound like Sam’s…”

Garth sighed. Poor Benny hadn’t finished a sentence since he had arrived. “Donna’s doing right, keeping you out here. If it ain’t safe for the fire department, it sure ain’t safe for one firefighter. And if it just collapsed, that means Michael Arch made the right call. The point isn’t to lose more folks.”

Benny’s smile was forced. “Yeah. I know. They’re trying to support what’s left so we can get to the second floor. We were able to clear out the lobby on the ground floor. Got a dozen more folks out, and helped them. But everything else is one sharp wind from going down, and...and the brothers are inside, and I can’t do nothing to help them.”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe. But you got Hanscum. And she needs you too. So? Put me to work. Where can I help?”

At last, he got a real smile from the big bear. “We got a lot of folks trying to get hold of family. Be good to have some organization to that. Some of them are hurt and others are just confused.”

“I’m on it, Chief!”

He sighed. “Garth, if I got to pull those fool brothers out, I don’t know what I’ll…”

He gripped his buddy’s arm. “They’ll walk out of there, Benny. No doubt. I’m going to go put my adrenaline to use. I may never sleep again!”

“Meg Masters is right over there. Not sure where her partner got off to. But she could use a hand. If you can do the talking to scared folks, she can do the treating of the hurt ones.”

“Demon Meg? Awesome. Thanks.”

Benny laughed a little. “Good luck, man. She’s a badder storm than you ever chased before. Consider it a challenge.”

Garth shot him something between a grin and a grimace, and headed toward the EMT who was snarling at a volunteer, while bandaging a woman’s head. He took a deep breath. He had just experienced a supercell tornadic event. He could handle taking direction from Meg Masters.


	9. Here’s Hoping the Storm Didn’t Take Out the Liquor Store

Sam’s heart was torn in two. Half of it ached with worry about Castiel, who lay prone before him. The other half pounded out panic for Dean. The beam that had struck Castiel was part of a cave-in of the floor above. 

This was exactly why they had been told to stay out until they could secure the building. And it was exactly why Sam and his brother and this EMT had refused to stay out. They had to save as many as they could before the building gave up entirely. 

Sam dropped his radio in frustration. “They can’t understand me. They hear me, I think, but there’s not enough…” 

His voice faded off as he acknowledged that it didn’t really matter if the people outside could hear him. They were on their own, and they had known that going in. Castiel had known it. 

“I’d like to get you two to the stairwell,” he murmured to Mr. Jones and Mrs. Tate. “I’ll...I'll come back for Cas, but...but he risked his life to save you two, and-and the least I can do for him is get you to the safest place.”

“What about Cas?” Fred demanded. “Take her, but I’m not leaving this boy! He’s family!”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. He’s family, and that means he would want you safe. I give you my word I’ll watch over him till we can get him out. But I can’t move him, not if I don’t have to, because I could do more damage. If I think I gotta move him, I will. But it would be a lot easier to move him than to move all three of you. If you care about him, you need to help me get Mrs. Tate safe. Come on.”

“Oh, Charles,” the woman moaned. “He was so pretty!”

“He’s not dead,” Fred snapped. “Come on. You heard him. The longer he’s spending on us, the less he’s helping my boy. Unless you want to carry him yourself, at least carry you!”

Sam smiled a little at that. 

The woman seemed not to take offense to the order, and she used Fred’s outstretched hand to lift herself onto shaky legs. “You know, Mr. Jones, I don’t think I ever heard you talk before today. It’s every bit as nice as I imagined. You remind me of an actor I enjoyed once, in a show about doctors at war…”

Getting the two of them to the nearby stairwell was easy enough once they climbed through the wreckage right outside. But it was slow, and every minute that passed, Sam worried that he would return to find Castiel buried, or that he couldn’t get to him any longer at all. 

At last, Sam pushed his way back through, after depositing Mr. Jones and his friend in the solid stairwell, where several others had sought shelter. He desperately hoped he had succeeded in giving them their best chance, hoped Dean had found a similar hideout, and then turned all his attention to the man on the ground. 

“God, Castiel. Am I doing the wrong thing here? Should I move you too? If this place collapses and you die, worrying about any neck injuries will seem really stupid. But you were the one who taught that course, remember?” 

He sat next to the man, and set to work going through the last of the supplies in the backpack, to see if he could at least bandage Castiel’s cuts. Every creak of wood and metal made him want to dive over the prone man to protect him from anything which might fall. He had given up his mask, and he needed to cough, but everything was so precarious that he was sure doing so would topple the whole building, so he cleared his throat as gently as he could. 

But he kept talking. “That was when I first met you. Straight out of the academy, you gave the first responder training. You probably don’t remember me. Why would you? Rookie deputy from Barton County, who never got up the nerve to speak directly to you the whole class. And I remember thinking, God, this guy has it together. I bet he’s never been scared in his life. He’s so cool and calm, and he’s a freaking hero. I know what your salary is, man. You don’t get paid enough for the shit you do. Just like Dean. And Jody. But you do it anyway, and I’ve never seen you complain, never saw you lose your cool.”

He laughed quietly. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate, but he couldn’t help reaching down and pushing dark hair from Castiel’s closed eyes. He applied the last of the antibacterial ointment to his cheek, as if that was even close to the most important part of his injuries. If Castiel died today, it wasn’t going to be because the gash on his cheek wasn’t cleaned properly. But it was what he could do, so it was what he did. 

“Me on the other hand. I’m good enough at my job, but that’s all I am. I’m as awkward as they come. Especially after every single encounter I’ve ever had with you. Donna and Jody tease the crap out of me. It’s so stupidly obvious that I like you. And-and there are a thousand reasons to like you, but honestly? I don’t know why I’m still so hung up on you. When I heard you had transferred to Barton, I literally could not take a full breath. And now we’ve been working the same beat in the same tiny town for years, and I still barely know you, but I still can’t take a full breath when you’re around.”

He felt the dust and grit scratching at his throat and burning his eyes. He shook his head miserably. 

“Look, don’t die today, okay? Please. I’m probably going to lose a lot of people that are real important to me today-maybe already have. So just don’t die today. Just...just ‘cause.”

Castiel was the one who had taught the first responders class so long ago. Sam prayed that he was doing the right thing by not moving the man, and his gut told him he was. But his heart was brutal enough to point out the irony of it all, by reminding him that he had been a little too distracted by the instructor to know for sure. 

He sighed. “Real professional,” he muttered to himself. 

“Meg?” 

Sam’s eyes shot wide open. “Castiel?”

The other man coughed dryly. “Who?”

Fear gripped him tight about the chest. “Castiel! Castiel Hart! Oh my god! You don’t know who you-“

The EMT groaned and pushed himself to sit, gripping his head in misery. “I know who I am, dumbass. Who are you?”

Oh. That was...less terrifying. “Sam. Deputy Sam Winchester. You’ve sustained a-“

“A fucking head injury? Are you going to tell me I’ve sustained a fucking head injury?”

“Are-are you okay?”

Castiel coughed again, then gestured to Sam to lean in. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Sam sat back and rolled his eyes. “Right.”

But then Castiel went very still. “Sam Winchester.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I can’t see.”

Sam watched the handsome face go completely gray, and he thought for a moment that Castiel was going to vomit. “What’s that mean?” he asked carefully, moving forward again.

“It means-Sam, I can’t see! I should be able-There’s enough-But I can’t. I can’t see!”

He shoved down his fear to calm his own voice. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right. That happens sometimes after a blow to the head. Right? Takes some time to heal.” He had no idea if that was true. But he could tell Castiel was listening. “We have to get you someplace safe. Okay?”

“The-the tornado. It hit the-Fred Jones! Is he okay? Did anyone find Fred Jones?”

Sam smiled at him sadly. “Yeah, man. You did. And he and his friend Mrs. Tate are going to be okay because you did. If it weren’t for you, they would have been crushed when that beam fell. It fell right where he was trying to get Mrs. Tate up. They both would have been killed. No doubt. It hit you on its way down, but it would have crushed them underneath, where they were. They’re alive because of you.”

Castiel took a deep breath, and the determination and cool calm he was known for returned to his gray features. He nodded. “Then it doesn’t matter what happens to me. Mr. Jones...He’s all that matters. He’s the only family I have. When I had to put him in a facility, I moved to Barton so I could be nearby in case he ever needed me. I-I haven’t...He doesn’t speak anymore. He can. He just doesn’t. Most days, he’s barely here at all. But he’s still family.”

Sam nodded. “Can you stand? I’ll take you to him. It’s the safest place, the stairwell.”

Castiel did stand, but it immediately became clear that he had no sense of balance. 

The deputy swung one of Castiel’s arms over his own shoulders, and heaved him to his feet. “I got you.”

A weak laugh was his reward. “You know how often I’ve thought about that handsome cop putting his arms around me? It was never like this.”

Sam froze. “What-what cop?”

Castiel sighed. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”


	10. If I Claim to Be a Wise Man

There wasn’t much point in shouting, and his radio was smashed into bits. Anyway, what good was the radio? “Hey, Benny, just letting you know I’m probably gonna die, and I’m sorry you won’t be able to win your cash back next week. Maybe Sam will lose a game to you once in awhile when he’s off duty. Assuming he’s okay.”

And if Sam wasn’t okay?

Well, if Sam wasn’t okay, there wasn’t much point in Dean making it anyway. Dean had friends. He even had family, sort of. But it had always been him and Sam against the world. He could live this life alone. But he didn’t want to. Not without his brother.

Dean found himself talking aloud again. Nobody could hear it anyway.

“Bobby John,” he murmured. “Not even Sammy knew that, though he probably could’ve guessed. Always thought maybe someday I could find myself a nice girl, settle into some apple pie life. And maybe there’d be a son one day. Robert John. Or two. Samuel Henry and Bobby John. Because Bobby John should have a kid brother. Robert John after our dads. Sam Henry after our granddaddies. And I’d raise them both to be like their Uncle Sammy.”

He snorted.

“If one’s a girl, definitely going with Samantha.”

What was he thinking? There were never going to be any kids. No wife and no apple pie life. Guys like him didn’t end up like that.

“Screw ups and dropouts with six bucks to their name don’t end up that way. Guys like Sammy end up as dads. Or they should. God, he’d be a great dad. How cool would that be, to be an uncle to Sam’s overachieving little brats someday?”

The thought made him smile.

“Of course, we’d both have to make it out of here for that to…”

Dean heard the most horrible sound, and stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped everything. The sound was identified by the part of his brain that was still operational, while the rest went numb with dread.

“Sammy,” he hissed out through his teeth, as the sound amplified until it shook everything around him. “I’m so sorry, little brother. Please be safe. Please-“

The tornado sirens were nothing compared to the tornado itself. It wouldn’t hit directly, not in the same spot. But it wouldn’t have to. The sheer intensity and magnitude of this storm made it a horror from across the street. Dean didn’t know where it was. All he knew was that he was done.

Dean had really had a pretty good run. He had lived hard, worked hard, played hard. There wasn’t much to regret. He would have liked to have saved the old man before his own death. But you can’t have everything.

***

Green eyes blinked several times into a too-bright light. The man took a long breath, and hoarsely launched into his best argument.

“You gotta send me back. I’m not done; I got a job to do!”

“What job?” a voice asked with incredulity.

Apparently even dead guys had tear ducts. “My brother. I can’t leave him alone out there. I won’t leave him…” At last, his vision began to adjust to his reality. Dean lifted his head, and the dizziness rushed him. He dropped his head back down. “I’m alive!” he decided.

The inelegant snort responded, just outside his line of sight. “A little slow on the uptake, ain’t he?”

Another voice hummed in agreement. “He’s always made up for it with stubborn recklessness.”

Dean forced himself up again. “How-how did you…”

“Brains trumps legs, apparently,” Bobby snickered. He pushed forward in his chair to roll alongside Dean’s cot.

They were in a clinic, Dean realized. “What are you two-“ Then his eyes widened. “Sammy!” he yelped. His voice was husky and dry, but his urgency pushed through his soreness. “Where is he?”

John stood over the cot now too. “He’s going to be fine. They pulled him out with the others. He and his friend had made it to the stairwell just before the storm opened up again. You boys saved a lot of folks. I’m real proud.”

This information soaked in, along with his father’s sentiment. Dean tried to take a full breath. “We were looking for you two, sir. Helped them that could be helped, but...but we were looking for you.”

Bobby smiled at him gruffly. “Yeah. And a real fool thing to do too. Jumping into a disaster to save a bunch of old coots like me and Johnny. I could just shake you!”

John rolled his eyes at his old friend. “You’d have to catch him,” he teased.

The scowl turned on John now. “And in case you missed it, he’s got a bit of a height advantage on me,” he agreed in a dry tone.

But Dean shook his head. “You’re both alive! Does Sam know? You let him know you both made it?”

Bobby’s face softened. “He knows. And now he’s got somebody else he needs to take care of.”

John sighed, and shrugged.

“What? Who?”

“His friend is in bad shape, Dean. The EMT kid who followed you two in. He’s in a bad way.”

His head was still spinning from the news that his paternal relations were fine. This new information made him frown severely. “What, Hart? Why? What happened?”

John patted him roughly on the arm. “Just rest, son. Your friend Benny is ready to take down the wall if we don’t let him in the door. Jody Mills refuses to let Sam out of her sight for more than a minute. You boys got some loyal friends.”

Weariness blanketed him suddenly, but he smiled, even as his eyes slipped closed. “Yes, sir.”

“Come on, Singer. The Lafitte boy won’t rest till he can see him. And we all need rest.”

Bobby sighed, and touched Dean’s hand gently. “I don’t know the kid, but he took on a damn tornado to save Dean, and that makes him family.”

“Your scrawny kid too,” John added.

Dean was having trouble following the events, as told by two old fish storytellers.

“Garth,” Bobby said then, with a bit of exasperated fondness. “Imagine Garth working alongside those firefighters to get to your boys. I’d have given money to see that.”

“Come on, Singer,” John said again, softer this time. “Let the boy rest. He earned it.”

He earned it. Dean couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t understand it. He was in a clinic, on a cot, which meant he was at the bottom of the triage priorities, but yet he couldn’t keep his eyes open. But as sleep crept in from all sides, Dean felt the warmth Bobby’s hand had left on his, and he heard his father’s words seeping into his soul. Bobby loved him. John was proud. Dean had earned it.

It was worth anything, everything to know that.


	11. The Holy Mess and The Savior

Castiel had saved Fred. And Sam Winchester had saved Castiel. And now Meg was tearing into him like a hellhound with a chew toy. So all was right with the world, it seemed.

He had stopped listening to Meg’s ranting, as she alternated between being pissed off that he wasn’t dead and being glad because she intended to kill him. It was becoming repetitive.

“And another thing, you selfish, irresponsible glory-whore-“

Castiel put his hand up at last. “Okay. Okay. I get it. I’m an idiot.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Hart?” she demanded. Finally, her voice was beginning to show emotion other than anger, and she dropped onto the bed beside him in exhaustion.

“I wasn’t. Okay? I just couldn’t wait for fire to enter. Not when I knew Fred was in there someplace. For all I knew, he was one of those already dead. But if he had a chance, I needed to be with him. If I couldn’t save him...at least I could die trying.”

He could hear a tiny sniff he knew Meg would never admit to in a hundred years. “You nearly did, Cas,” she whispered. “If that stupid deputy hadn’t thrown himself over you when the second twister hit, when it all came down...Well, you’re lucky you both have hard heads. Sounds like you’re perfect for each other.”

Castiel gave her a soft smile. “Meg? Will you check on Fred again for me?”

She snorted, then cleared her throat. “I’m always doing your job for you, Clarence.”

But he felt her stand and heard her step out of the room. Meg was a tough bitch. She had saved a lot of lives. The Sheriff had already mentioned seeing to it that she got some kind of recognition for her tireless battle. No storm stood a chance against Meg. Castiel was proud of her.

The world was still dark. The doctor was optimistic on that front, that when his injuries healed, he would recover most or all of his sight. But for now, it was dark, and it was lonely. He listened to the sounds outside his room with a bit of an ache, feeling as though he were separated from every other living thing by more than just a wall and an open door.

He smiled a little when he heard two voices in the hall. One was the firefighter who had dragged him and Sam out of rubble, and had searched doggedly for Dean until he could pull him out too. The other was the pretty deputy whose leadership had organized the entire rescue effort, along with that same firefighter.

“Told you. Dean’s gonna be fine. Thanks to a certain loyal, brave friend. Thank you for finding him, and Sam too. Jody’s going to tie those boys up, you betcha, but I’d hate to see them...You know.”

“They’re cats, Deputy. Nine lives and down by at least eight each. I couldn’t let them use up another. This town woulda been too quiet without them brothers around.”

“You had that cut looked at, Benny?”

“Ouch! Now don’t paw at it, woman! Yes. It’s fine. What about you?”

“Oh, only injury I took was to my pride when I slipped on the hail mess. Storm chaser was the only one to see it, but he swears he didn’t. Good kid, Garth.”

They shared a laugh. Then Benny sighed. “Deputy…”

“Uffda, enough! We been working together for a seventeen hour shift and counting. It’s Donna!”

Castiel could practically hear the big bear of a firefighter blushing. “Deputy Donna,” he corrected himself. “Thinking on that seventeen hours shift...I’m getting real hungry. I’m grateful for the sandwiches they brought us, but now that things are calmer, and Chief is taking over all the ground logistics...Can I buy you a bite?”

He imagined Donna’s sweet mischief playing on her pretty face. “Oh, you betcha,” she murmured. “Long as you know I can bite back.”

Benny laughed with a bit of awe. “You know, I believe that. Always liked a girl with sharp teeth.”

Castiel listened to the playful flirtation until the two walked down the hall out of earshot. He was glad for them. This awful night had brought together two good people, and it was nice to know there was a hopeful beginning among all the tragic endings.

“Cas?”

He didn’t bother opening his eyes, but he smiled. “Maybe there’s another now.”

Sam stepped lightly into the room. “Another what?”

“Nothing.” Another hopeful beginning. Exactly what Castiel needed to look forward to when looking around him brought only darkness. “How are you, Deputy?”

The large man was shuffling his feet like a teenager. “Oh, I don’t know. Got my arm in a sling. Hate that. But it’s better than a lot of folks. Got my back tore up so that it hurts if I sit too long, but again...lots of folks have it worse.”

“I didn’t get a chance to truly thank you.”

The deputy cleared his throat. “No, that’s okay. Doing my job. Just glad you’re going to be okay. And...and you are. Right? Your partner told me the doctors think…”

A twinge of fear made him shiver. “Yeah. They think so. We’ll see. It’s...It’s scary.”

He could feel Sam’s stare. “God. Never thought I’d ever find that something could scare you. You’re Cas Hart, you know? Legendary for keeping a cool head.”

He smirked. “Yeah. My partner will tell you that’s a bunch of crap. Just because I keep it together under pressure while on the job, that doesn’t mean I’m not a holy mess underneath it all. You got to see that up close.”

But Sam was stubborn. “All I saw was a hero saving person after person, till you could get to the man that’s family for you.”

“I wasn’t alone, Sam. I wouldn’t have made it half so far, if you hadn’t been with me. And I wouldn’t have made it out alive. So regardless of what happens with my eyes...I’m grateful. And I didn’t say it before, but thank you.”

Sam took another step toward him, then stopped again. Castiel heard a chair being moved, and he felt Sam sitting beside his bed. “Cas, I’ve accounted for all the folks we helped along the way. Every one of them made it to the stairwell before the place collapsed. Kevin Tran rounded up everyone and made sure they got there. He kept saying we gave them their best chance, and he helped them take the last steps to the safest place in the building.”

“Smart kid.”

Sam snorted softly. “Yeah. He’ll be mayor one day. But in the meantime, he’s going to be a good doctor.”

“And Fred. Has anyone checked on him?”

A warm hand touched his arm. “He’s fine, Cas. He slips away often, but whenever he’s alert, he asks about you.”

He nodded. “Please don’t tell him I can’t see.”

“Nobody mentioned that. Figured it was your business to tell if you wanted to.”

Relief soothed his tense muscles. “Good. No, I don’t want to worry him. He’s done enough. He did everything. He should rest. Sight or no sight, I can watch over him.”

Sam’s voice was soft. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know you could. But he’s in good hands now. And so are you.”

It sounded like a goodbye, and Castiel clasped his hand over Sam’s with a sudden urgency. “Don’t go.” It escaped his lips without permission, and he cringed with how weak his own voice sounded. “I’m sorry. I just probably won’t be released for a while. Maybe not till tomorrow or even the next day.” He tried to laugh. “It isn’t like I can read a book.”

The smile in Sam’s voice was as warm as his hand. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised. “They released me, and I got to go home and shower. And I packed myself an overnight bag. I’m on medical leave for a while. I’ll be here for the long haul, Cas. So long as you want company, I want to be here.”

Pleasure flooded through him, washing away the fear and anxiety. “I want company,” he confirmed in a quiet voice.

“Well, I brought a bunch of books, and my Croatoan albums on my iPod, and snacks, and plenty of other things to kill the time. What would you like to do first?”

It was probably the medication he was on. Maybe it was the influence of Benny Lafitte and Donna Hanscum. Maybe the near-death experience, and the fact that this man had been his savior. Whatever the reason, Castiel tightened his grip on Sam’s hand and pulled him, until the man’s lips were within reach of his own.

That was what Castiel wanted to do first.


	12. Not in Kansas Anymore

Realizing he could be an awesome big brother and also not go to the punk metal concert at the same time was what Dean called win-win. His brother was chattering over the phone, and let slip a valuable piece of information. 

“I mean, he even likes Croatoan! Who would’ve guessed Cas Hart had a punk side underneath all those straight-laced layers?”

Dean was already grinning at the ridiculously smitten sound of Sam laughing. Now he snapped to attention. “Croatoan fan, huh?”

“Yeah! Crazy, right? He and Meg even saw them in concert once. Said he could feel the music in his veins for a week after. God, I’m jealous of that!”

The awesome big brother took a deep breath. “Yeah? Don’t be. Because I got you a little birthday gift.”

Sam laughed in surprise. “Dude, you don’t have to do that. We’re not kids anymore. And you don’t make any more in your paycheck than I do in mine. Besides, I already own all the albums.”

He smirked smugly. “Ain’t an album, dumbass. I got you tickets. Two tickets and a decent hotel room for the weekend. And it sounds like you’ve already decided who to take with you.” Dean didn’t add that he was glad it wasn’t him. He could hang out with his brother another weekend, without the incoherent screaming and contact highs. 

Sam’s grateful babbling was exactly as satisfying as he had known it would be.

It was official. He was the best big brother ever. 

***

Castiel was still feeding off the beautiful metal rage, and Sam had never seen anything sexier in his entire life. He watched the normally reserved man leap from one queen bed to the other to pounce on Sam with a cackle. 

The deputy laughed too. “Hey! You’re not totally recovered! If you fall and bust yourself up, I’m never taking you to a concert again.”

Castiel’s vision had all but returned, and his doctors were still optimistic about a full recovery. So when he grinned wickedly down at his new friend, Sam knew he could see the hot flush filling his face. 

“Hey,” he began again, a little breathlessly.

But Castiel swallowed whatever Sam was trying to say with a kiss. His hands were working them out of their clothes, until he began to giggle with exasperation. “Too many fucking buttons, Sam!” he cried out. “In case I hadn’t mentioned it, manual dexterity isn’t back to pre-brain injury standards! I want to get into your clothes. If you don’t help, I swear I’ll start ripping.”

Sam’s blush heated, but he hurried to help. “I’m just afraid your judgment is also not up to standard,” he admitted. 

Castiel lowered his forehead to Sam’s chest. “For the last time, Deputy Winchester, I was cleared by two specialists to attend a metal concert, providing I didn’t, quote, ‘do any of that headbanging or mosh dancing stuff.’”

He burst into laughter that shook the whole bed. “I meant-“

“I know what you meant! You think my attraction to you is a symptom of a brain injury, and I have already told you that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. Do I need to call Meg? I’ll do it. Right now. She knows better than anyone in the world how utterly gone for you I’ve been since I first saw you. She’ll tell you that when I first moved to town, on one of our first nights together, a hot deputy walked by me at the hospital, and I dropped an entire strawberry smoothie down the front of my uniform. And that was just the first sight of you! Meg is convinced that every time I come in contact with you, I ruin another jacket within the hour.”

Pleasure bloomed in his stomach as he stared up at the man in awe. 

Castiel was stunning in his casual concert clothes, and he was devastating now that he was half out of them. Every scrap of skin he could see was calling to Sam to touch. 

Yet he still hesitated. “But...but I noticed you before that.”

“You can’t hold that against me, Sam. I was in instructor mode when I taught that class.”

“No, I know. I just mean that…Look. Cas, maybe you are still high from the music, and maybe you’re not really back to-“

Castiel lifted his eyes to lock his gaze with Sam’s, which cut off Sam’s statement. “Sam? If you try to tell me again that wanting you is evidence that my brain isn’t right, I’m going to call a cab to take me back home.”

Sam held his breath. 

“I like you, Sam. God, I think I might be in love with you.”

And now Sam couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to. 

At last, Castiel rolled off of him to pull him onto his own strong chest. He held Sam there a moment before speaking again. “I talked to Fred before we left town this morning. Told him I was afraid.”

Sam blinked. It still shocked him to think that anything could frighten Castiel Hart. “Of the medical stuff?”

There came a squeeze of warm arms around him. “No, Sam. Of how much I like you. Of messing up my chance with you.”

“You couldn’t.”

The light snort made Castiel’s chest huff. “Believe me.” He sighed then. “Sam, I’m smart. I’m strong. I’m capable. And I’m a complete and utter mess. The fact that no one but Meg seems to have noticed is almost disturbing. Every time someone tells me I’ve got it all together, I want to laugh and scream at the same time. I’ve always been a mess.”

“You’re not! You keep saying that, but you’re not!”

Castiel kissed the top of his head. “Maybe I’m not. But I have always felt like I am. My father always felt like I was. I was both the perfect son and the waste of time. He expected excellence, and had no interest in any part of me that wasn’t up to that. I worked ceaselessly to be what he wanted me to be, and all the time, I knew in my heart I wasn’t anything like that. And every time I let the real me show, he told me to get out, and I wasn’t to return until I could be what I was supposed to be.”

Sam frowned hard. He remembered the way he and Dean had always tried to be better, to make John proud. And there had certainly been legendary fights among the Winchester men, until the trucking accident that had left both Bobby Singer and his partner John needing the assisted living arrangement. But in spite of it all, Sam had always known his father loved him. Bobby too. “Cas, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Fred was different. When I tried to pretend with him, he told me to knock it off. Said I better be myself or nobody at all. When I told him the real me was just a tangled up disappointment, he said he loved that type of kid. And I burst out crying, and he took me into his house, and showed me the guest room, said it was my room anytime I needed a place to be real for a while. I went in and slept for three days straight. I was fourteen. And that room was the only place I had ever felt like it was okay to relax and just be.”

“Fred’s a good man.”

Castiel gave a short laugh. “He would bang on the door and tell me my music wasn’t loud enough, when I tried to be considerate. I’ll never forget that. Didn’t matter what I played. Punk, metal, Mozart. He’d ask me if I could feel the music, and when I said I was trying not to bother him, he scoffed at me and said it bothered him that I was trying to listen to it so softly when I clearly needed to feel it. I never knew anybody like him before. When I visit him, I play classical music so loud that we can both feel it, until the nurses complain.”

“And what did he say? Today, when you told him you were afraid?”

There was a pause. Then: “He wasn’t there. He was off in his head today. And it didn’t matter. Because it’s Fred. I’ve always been able to talk to him, and I know well enough what he would tell me if he could.”

Sam smiled softly. “What would he say?”

“He would say, Cas, is he a good man? And I would say yes. Do you like him? I do. And does he want you to change anything about you? Not yet. Then go give it your best, and let him see the real you. The right person will get you. And if you find out he doesn’t love music and cartoons, he’s not as great as you think he is.”

They laughed together until the bed shook. Sam snickered. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” 

“I’m a huge Thundercats and Scooby Doo fan. I even wrote a crossover story about them in sixth grade.”

With that, Castiel rolled again, to put himself in his former position. His face took on the same wicked grin that had made Sam shiver before. “That qualifies you. And those are Fred’s words, not mine, and Fred’s brain may not be what it used to be, but he is the smartest man I’ve ever known. So...now that we’ve established that I may be a complete disaster, but my judgement isn’t impaired, can I please, please, please get my hands on you? I’ve thought about it for two years, and your brother got us a hotel room!”

He was certain he had never been happier in his life. His brother had surprised him with the best birthday present he had ever gotten. The music that had gotten him through adolescence was thrumming through his veins still. And the man he had adored from afar for years was now in his bed begging to touch him. 

“Sam!” Castiel growled with impatience. 

Sam sighed happily. “Hell yes.” 

And while their geographic location may not have changed, for the rest of that night, Sam and Castiel left behind the angry skies of Kansas and went to a place with far more magic.


End file.
